The Heart Has Seasons
by absolutefluffiness
Summary: The man loved by thousands across Asia has loved her for so long—and she doesn't know, because she is wrapped in her own pain. Companion piece to "Slowly, Sweetly."
1. Chapter 1

**The Heart Has Seasons**

**Summary:** _Companion piece to "Slowly, Sweetly," this is the story of Eriol and Tomoyo's strange relationship. The man loved by thousands has loved her for so long—and she doesn't know, because she is wrapped in her own pain._

**Notes:** _I decided to separate this from Syaoran and Sakura's story because it's a complex thing on its own. This will be updated much slower though. This was supposed to be up May 1 but I had no net access until now, so my apologies._

**Dedicated to 'Tomoyo-chan' and Em-chan, two wonderful friends. And with special thanks to "Oriental" who encouraged me to separate this story!**

**Chapter One: Winter Comes Before Spring **

_(__December 2008, just over seven months after the deaths of Fujitaka Kinomoto, Touya Kinomoto, and Yukito Tsukishiro)_

A beautiful woman with waist-length hair, bundled up in a thick coat, knelt in front of the graves of Fujitaka and Touya Kinomoto to place winter blossoms from a greenhouse over their headstones, and that of Yukito Tsukishiro. The graves were neat and clean; she suspected her married friends Sakura and Syaoran Li might have been there earlier. The snow had stopped for a while, though a few stray snowflakes kissed her delicately pale skin.

She liked to think her beloved, who now lay in eternal repose beside the man he had loved, was at peace. She caressed her stomach unconsciously, and smiled. He would have wanted to know he was supposed to have been a father—and damn the consequences.

How they would have broken the news to the man the father had vowed to love, Tomoyo Daidouji would never know now; they had died on the day she had discovered her pregnancy.

She knelt and kissed her hand, then pressed it to caress one headstone in particular, and her iron control gave way to broken sobs.

"We never got to say goodbye, love," she whispered. "There isn't a day that I don't miss you." Her tears splashed on the white headstone, and she caressed the stone as though it were her lover's cheek.

From a respectful distance, the man the media called the "Prince of Tokyo," the handsome balladeer the public knew as "Eli H." who had captivated many hearts with his soulful voice, stood watching Tomoyo. Snow was dusted over his broad shoulders, protected by a stylish and warm leather fleece-lined jacket, which did little to conceal his well-muscled body. Snow also fell on his dark hair, so dark it seemed to be almost blue at times. His sensual dark blue eyes were unprotected by his trademark glasses; he didn't really need them, but the look gave him a certain courtly, good-boy air.

He was one of Tomoyo's two best friends, and every moment in the graveyard was like a tiny needle pushed into his heart, reminding him that Tomoyo could only ever be his friend—and nothing more.

Yet he'd loved her for so long, he was willing to watch as she expressed her love for a man who was already gone.

He really should have set aside his feelings for her long ago, moved on, found someone else who could return his love—and there were many who had offered, beautiful women who had genuinely liked him not because he was a star, but because he was a good man.

Perhaps his ex-girlfriend and good friend Kaho Mizuki-Reed was right; when he'd confided in her about Tomoyo, she had chided him on wanting what he couldn't have.

And each time he felt like giving up, all Tomoyo had to do was smile at him, touch his arm, and say anything in that dulcet voice--and suddenly, it was worth it all.

Damn it all, he was such a sappy weakling, Eriol Hiiragizawa—"Eli H's" real name, known only to those who really knew him—thought.

* * *

**Tonight He Reads the Saddest Lines**

Eriol sighed as he reached for one of his favorite books. The autograph signing had gone on longer than he'd thought it would and the rudeness of his fans tested his patience. Why, for example, would they scream they loved him while tearing his clothes, ripping at his face with their hands and nails, throwing their soiled underwear at him? Love had nothing to do with it; it was lust.

He had no illusions about his looks; he knew that, with his dark, shoulder-length hair (usually kept in a discreet ponytail at his nape), pale skin, and startling dark-blue eyes, he was handsome. Add to that the charm and courtliness that came naturally to him, and he was a romantic hero come to life. Girls since middle school had sighed over him and his best friend Syaoran Li. He was the moon to Syaoran's sun: pale light, dark, mysterious, and difficult to understand. The contrast between the two friends was quite interesting; while they were both tall, Syaoran was darker, and was leanly built. Eriol tended towards muscle, and was a solid presence. His skin was pale and his presence otherworldly yet charming; Syaoran had a sensual air, but seemed quite arrogant and distant. Yet they knew each other well, worked well together and could even understand each other sans the need for words.

Eriol had drifted into his career quite by accident; he and Syaoran had been active in music in high school but he'd wanted to be a doctor. Indeed, he had been in his second year of medical school when, upon the request of a dying patient, he had sung to the old woman. Her son, a CEO of a leading record company, had heard him, and offered him a recording contract on the spot.

He rediscovered his love for singing when, upon his first public performance, he had charmed the entire studio audience. He was often bemused by his meteoric rise to fame; even he could not understand why he'd become so popular so quickly.

Soon, he was writing his own songs, and he'd hauled his best friend Syaoran out of business school to do his melodies. Their teamwork resulted in some of the biggest hits the recording company had ever known, and Eriol soon earned a controlling share in it. But his first love was always performing and he did as he pleased, taking joy and pride in stirring people's emotions. He liked it best when people told him they enjoyed his music, and shared how they had been touched or inspired by it; he lived for those moments.

But what Eriol hated most was when fans screamed their adoration for him and begged him to marry them, to father children on them. Why did they do it? And why _**was **_he unappreciative of such adulation?

_Because it's not love, _Eriol answered his own question. _I am a figurehead to them, someone they can safely worship because in the end they cannot have me. They do not know me; they cannot love me._

The thought depressed him. Sometimes he wished he were one of those other pop stars, one fueled by sex and drugs. That way he wouldn't have to be so introspective, so thoughtful—and so easy to depress when he thought of things. He could just shut out the world by losing himself in the ecstasy of female—and even male—flesh, and drown out concerns and sorrows with the artificial joy drugs gave.

Then again, he smirked, he probably wouldn't be happy if he were one of those kinds of stars. He tended to look down on them as being weak and silly, so why succumb to such useless, self-pitying thoughts?

He sighed, and as he always did when melancholy overtook him, he drew out a volume of poems by Pablo Neruda, taking comfort in the poem that he most related to. _"Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example,'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.' ... To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me." _

He did not read the actual lines on the page; he'd memorized them over the course of seven years: the first three spent in the company of the woman whom he still loved, but who now belonged to another, and the last three knowing his heart belonged to one woman who could not return his love.

He smiled without bitterness. Those were just the way things were.

How ironic that the man declared to be one of the most desirable in Tokyo was not desired by the one he wanted. He chuckled softly at his self-pitying thoughts.

On a side table was a small photograph of him with Tomoyo. Eriol remembered the first time they had met; she was fresh out of college and he was just beginning to be noticed as the balladeer to watch in Tokyo. He needed a costumer for his music videos; Asian music was terribly competitive, and he knew he would have to get the best he could for everything: video direction, costuming, storyboarding, and so on.

* * *

**(Over three years ago)**

_Eriol had been given the address of a design school in a suburb of Tokyo called Tomoeda, and directed to its music room. To his surprise, he could hear Mozart's "Requiem" pouring from the room; few people his age appreciated the intricacy of the piece, save for his best friend Syaoran, with whom he once performed the piece at a high school choir competition._

_Then he heard the voice. Chills went up and down his spine as the pure soprano voice went into the difficult "__Kyrie eleison, christae eleison" bridge which required an intricate combination of tiny breaths in a staccato rhythm without breathing for twenty seconds as the singer alternated between notes, sharps, and flats. Very few sopranos could hit those notes flawlessly all the time—and this voice did it, apparently without any effort._

_He peeked around the corner. The singer had her back to him—long raven hair that curled into gentle waves as it dropped to her waist was the first thing he saw. _

_He'd always loved long hair on a woman._

_Then the tenor part began, one which required Eriol to blend his voice with the original singer's. And so he did, raising his tenor voice, swooned to and loved across Japan, in perfect harmony with the voice of the young woman. She continued to sing, turning the pages of her copy of the libretto; Eriol knew the lyrics and the melody by heart, and kept singing. Their voices blended beautifully, and he kept time with her by following the beat she led with. He'd never sung this way before—and never would again._

_As the recording by the Vienna choir ended, she turned around._

"_Oh!" She smiled, completely unaffected by her recognition of him. "Hiiragizawa-san! Welcome. You sing beautifully."_

"_I could say the same," he smiled as he reached out a hand. "And please, call me Eriol if we're going to work together."_

"_This is my folio of designs," she said, handing over a large, fat clearbook to him. He was impressed by the detail, even more so when he learned she did most of the work herself. Talking to her was easy; she did not quiver in his presence, and happily shared her ideas._

_She was fascinating and perhaps the loveliest he'd ever seen—and he regularly worked with other celebrities and the most beautiful woman Asia had to offer. And it was not the violet eyes, nor the high cheekbones, nor the rosy lips. It was the entirety of her that sang out to him; she was a woman to be cherished and loved, yet she was also someone who would understand him, someone who could stand back and wait if that was what you needed her to do._

_Eriol could put his finger on when he had realized he was very attracted to Tomoyo: right there, when his hand touched hers in the handshake that began a partnership that would last a very long time._

_And then his newfound emotions took a nosedive when Touya Kinomoto walked through the door. Not noticing Eriol, he smiled, and kissed Tomoyo tenderly. "Did you meet your famous client, my lovely violet?" he asked as he hugged her gently._

_Tomoyo smiled and indicated __with her eyes where Eriol was standing. Unfazed, Touya let go of Tomoyo, and held out a hand in a friendly fashion. "Kinomoto Touya," he introduced himself. "Sorry for not noticing you."_

_Eriol quickly recovered his composure. "No need for apologies," he smiled as he shook Touya's hand. The other man was darkly handsome, and Eriol suddenly felt like an out of place vampire with his pale skin. "Surely a woman as distractingly lovely as she needs no better tribute," Eriol smiled._

_Touya laughed. "That she is," he said as he put an arm over her shoulders._

_

* * *

  
_

**Tomoyo Remembers**

As she knelt in the snow, Tomoyo felt the memories wash over her again. She lived daily with memories of Touya, but this grief was still new to her.

_She remembered having to identify the bodies after Sakura had been unable to do so from shock and grief. Tomoyo had been startled to see that Touya's darkly beautiful face had been untouched in the carnage of the accident. He was still as handsome as ever, his eyes closed as though he would still wake up, had it not been for the ruin that his chest had become—the chest she remembered kissing and caressing for five beautiful years. She remembered noticing he was wearing his favorite shirt, one she'd given him a year ago—and thought, __how shall we ever get all that blood out? _

_And it was over that trivial detail that Tomoyo lost her self-control and began to sob as she pressed her lips to Touya's cold, dead ones._

_How had it all ended so suddenly?_

_She remembered turning to what was left of Yukito Tsukishiro and quietly begging his forgiveness for five forbidden years with Touya. After finishing identification, she begged the coroner for her last moments alone with the father of the child whose existence she had discovered only a day ago. She had planned to surprise him when he got back._

_Tomoyo hadn't even noticed she was pregnant because she was so busy preparing for Eriol's big anniversary concert. It was only when she noticed she hadn't bought tampons or napkins for some time that it occurred to her that she and Touya hadn't been using protection for some time._

_Dear God, the complications a baby would bring...They would never be able to hide the pregnancy, nor would they be able to hide their emotions. Touya would want to be a part of the child's life, and Tomoyo would not deny him that._

_She drew a deep breath. They'd successfully hidden their relationship as she was very good at keeping her emotions under control, and Touya had learned the same from her. The guilt of betraying Yukito ate away at them, but once they were together—it was useless fighting their love for each other._

_It wasn't just lust; Tomoyo caught herself wishing it were just that. They were also the best of friends, and they understood each other so well. Despite the lack of a legal bond, they were married in their hearts; though they knew they would pay the price someday, neither could face the thought of admitting the truth and hurting too many people._

_Now though, the child would mean they had to face up to the consequences of their actions. Tomoyo wondered if she was strong enough to support Touya when it all came to light—and decided that she had to be, for his sake._

_But then if the baby had his eyes—__**Stop**__, Tomoyo admonished herself. __**Find out if there's a baby before you go crazy.**_

_Two hours later, she had her answer, and she was almost dancing for joy, the only thing reining her in being, _how will I ever explain this to everyone? _She imagined Sakura's confused face, her mother's disappointed face, and Yukito...Oh no, oh no, Yukito!_

_Would he forgive them? Would any explanation, any reason make up for the terrible thing they had done to him? Tomoyo spent the rest of the day racking her brains, preparing an explanation, no not this one, not that—no! _

_So much for that, though. When Sakura called her, almost out of her mind with grief while at the morgue, Tomoyo remembered dropping her cell phone in shock. _It wasn't supposed to be this way!

_Numb and unfeeling, she dialed Eriol's number quickly, knowing he would be there for her. She'd come to depend on him and his quiet support for a long time. __She dimly remembered Eriol picking her up, driving her to the morgue, asking the policeman on duty for directions—his strong, steady presence a comfort in the worst time of her life._

The snow swirled about Tomoyo as she stood in front of Touya's grave. "This is going to be my first Christmas without you," she choked. "I...I remember it was Christmas when you first kissed me in your house. And—" she drew a deep breath. "We first made love when it was snowing. Do you remember? No one was at home, and I came by thinking Sakura-chan was there, and you told me...you told me you had loved me for so long...and finally I was free to tell you the same thing."

Eriol watched Tomoyo from a respectful distance, his heart aching that he could not, would never be the one, to comfort her. All he could do was be her strength—just as he had always been since he'd met her in what felt like a lifetime ago. He could remember every minute: his first glance into those lovely violet eyes, the first time he'd felt her hair brush against his skin, the euphoria when he had identified her scent: plum berries. They stood out in his mind, and he drew on them whenever he sang in concerts.

_He'd been the one who had found her after she had disappeared for a few days after the deaths of Sakura's family. She was at home in her condominium—and she was bleeding. He'd broken the door down after she didn't answer calls or the door; his heart in his throat, he was terrified that something had happened to her._

_Eriol would never remember how he stayed calm when he found her. She was lying on her bed, glassy-eyed and pale. Clearly the shock had caused her to miscarry, and she was in denial as he carried her to his car, leaving a trail of blood behind them._

_He hadn't even known she was pregnant. The woman he adored was pregnant by another man, one she could never be with. It hurt him so much that it felt like there was a giant stone lodged in his throat, preventing him from swallowing, but it was his fault, after all—he'd never told her how he felt out of respect for her feelings and her affair with Touya._

"_I'm all right," she whispered. "I have to be strong. We...Touya and I are having a baby." She smiled. "I found out with the pregnancy test the other night...or was it this morning?" She closed her eyes. "But whatever shall we tell Yukito-san?" Her forehead furrowed in agony. "I want...to apologize to him..."_

"_Tomoyo," and it was the first time he had dared use her name without the honorific '-san', "stay awake. You're losing blood. I need you to stay awake. Please."_

_Her lashes were fluttering, and in desperation he latched on to the topic he knew she couldn't resist. "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? You'd love to dress a little girl, wouldn't you?"_

"_Mmm-hmm. I would love a little girl—with Touya's eyes..." Tomoyo smiled. "I feel strange..." Her eyes rolled back in her head, and Eriol experienced pure terror at that moment, that she might die. She was pale from the loss of blood, and he knew from his abandoned medical studies that if she lost consciousness, he might lose her for good.  
_

_Eriol laid her gently in the back seat of his car—to hell with the upholstery—secured her, then bolted for the hospital. He kept talking to her, urging her to respond, and feeling vastly relieved when she did. He was so frantic, he almost forgot to remove his glasses and disguise himself. Tomoyo didn't need nasty rumors flying about her because of him, so he hastily jammed a cap on his head, threw away his glasses, and burst into the emergency room screaming._

_She lost the baby; the doctor, thinking he was the father, explained that with the circumstances of her frail body, lack of food, and previous grief, the baby had not stood a chance._

_He'd decoyed Sakura into thinking Tomoyo was with him in Hong Kong, allaying her fears deftly; he knew he could count on Syaoran to take care of her in the meantime. He'd told Tomoyo's mother the same thing, although Sonomi Daidouji had eyed him appraisingly before nodding. _

"_You take care of her, Hiiragizawa-kun," she said, and for some reason there was something else in her eyes. Did she know? But Eriol was too distracted to use his normally keen powers of observation. _

_What he had done instead was to nurse Tomoyo back to health in his home, canceling a concert he was supposed to hold in Kyoto to make her soup, feed her her medicines, and brush her beautiful hair. __And to savor having her with him—every sweet moment that he could pretend she was his._

"_I am such a bother to you," Tomoyo said as she lay recovering, her body spent from the miscarriage. _

"_Of course not. You are an excuse for me to take a vacation," Eriol said cheerfully, not daring to admit that being able to take care of her was making his heart sing._

_And it was all worth it. Tomoyo sang to him in private and he thrilled to her voice, raised in song for him. She listened to his complaints about aggressive fans and knew when to say things, and when to stay silent. And best of all, she treated him like any other man—not as someone to swoon over, someone to project fantasies on. She could see him, and who he really was. Eriol fell even deeper in love when he realized how intelligent, how caring she was._

_So for her he risked everything, bribing a __hospital nurse to give him Tomoyo's miscarried fetus instead of the baby being disposed of. God, the amount involved...and he couldn't even use his famous name, because he was terrified Tomoyo's name would be dragged through the mud if he was involved. Eriol managed to get Touya Kinomoto's coffin unsealed (again with an astronomical amount of bribes) so that the graveyard manager could place the tiny jar with his child in there with him. _

_And Eriol hated himself for wishing that he was Touya—that Tomoyo could have loved him as deeply and desperately as she did him. Their affair had lasted for five years, and he'd been present for the last three. He could have saved the baby if it was his—Eriol had always loved children, and longed for one of his own. He could have fathered it on any number of women who threw themselves at him but his heart had been hopelessly lost the day he'd met the girl behind the sketches for his costumes. There could be no one else, and he would rather be there than be shut out of her life._

When she recovered, they did not speak about it, save for when she kissed his cheek and thanked him for taking care of her. But that one week haunted Eriol. It had given him a bittersweet taste of what life could be with Tomoyo in his home—and he thought Syaoran must be feeling the same way with Sakura, especially now that Syaoran had all but admitted his love for her to him.

When Tomoyo slipped on the frozen ground, Eriol came up and gently pulled her up. She gratefully smiled at him, and he relished the moments of holding her, keeping her warm against the icy bite of the wind.

And he was surprised by her next words. "I wish you had known you were going to be a father, Touya," she said. "But don't worry about me. Eriol is taking care of me. Until next time, love." She turned to face him, the wind whipping her hair about her. In her black trench coat, she was a magnificent vision, a woman rising above sorrow. She reached out for his hand without looking, knowing it would be there to hold hers. And he was touched at how much she trusted him.

Eriol raised his brows, and Tomoyo nodded. They made their way hand in hand to where his winter SUV was parked, and both knew they would soon be warm in their favorite cafe.

He glanced back only once, to ask Touya Kinomoto to continue to watch over Tomoyo and keep her safe. "Because we both love her," he murmured as he closed her car door and moved to his side of the Mercedes.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Heart Has Seasons**

**Chapter 2: A False Spring**

Co-authored with **YamiNoTomoyo**. No, actually, she wrote more than half of this (bows head in shame) and I was the one who caused the delay, darn. Thank her for kicking my butt into finishing this! (Actually she threatened me. Enough said XD)

No, we don't own them (crawls off somewhere to cry)

* * *

**Spring is for Blossoms**

Tomoyo couldn't put a finger on when it was she had begun to change. In truth, since childhood, Tomoyo's life had been centered around other people: her mother Sonomi's unspoken wish for her to be beautiful and perfect; being Sakura's sidekick and best friend; the school paragon of beauty, virtue, and talent; the good girl, the smart one who always had an answer for everything and who could understand anything.

She had a quick mind; school lessons often amused her, rather than boring her. Her mind operated at a higher level than that; she was already solving algebra equations when they were but in grade six. In high school, she finally found a challenge: physics, chemistry, geometry, and the other sciences. Music, she realized, was an equation in itself; sharps, flats, tempos could be translated into mathematical formulas. Explaining the emotional component of music was harder, though; when she wrote a paper on it in senior year, she had had no one to talk to.

Sakura had tried, desperately, to understand; she, bless her innocent little heart, had even done some research on the side so that she could try to understand Tomoyo's thesis. But the math had defeated her, and shamefacedly, she had confessed her failure to Tomoyo, who had merely hugged her. That was why Sakura was her best friend, why she would never leave. Sakura would try anything for Tomoyo to keep her happy.

The music teacher had given her perfect marks for the paper, though Tomoyo was not convinced that the paper deserved it. She felt she did not know enough to merit it; one of her outline points, which attempted to show emotion as a variable constant in a musical equation. Yet the term "variable constant" nagged at her; it felt wrong somehow but not having someone who understood the subject matter, Tomoyo had not known how to revise it.

She'd left the paper on the counter of the Kinomoto kitchen as she came to visit right before the finals; Sakura was terrified she would flub Advanced Algebra, and had begged Tomoyo for tutoring, saying her older brother would just mock her if she asked him for it. When Tomoyo came downstairs to fetch some tea, she found Touya Kinomoto reading through it. He looked up at her, and calmly said, "I think the term you were searching for was 'constant random variable.' But I'd argue that point. You're saying that emotion in music is always there. What of bad music then, the cheap pop pap fed to us by commercial artists?"

"Oh, but I think their audiences still feel something in the music, otherwise they wouldn't buy it in droves, right?"

"Then it is no longer emotion rooted in the music, thus no longer a constant random variable, so to speak, for your theory," Touya leaned back and smiled at her. "The emotion is attached to the artist—and I use the term loosely. Therefore it is possible for no emotion to be constantly present in any song—if that were true then a random collection of notes has emotion in it, right?" He whistled tunelessly, and Tomoyo smiled, chagrined.

"Could the words be part of the equation then?" she ventured.

"Yes," Touya mused, "but what of classics such as 'Rhapsody in Blue'?"

"That's a beautiful piece," Tomoyo smiled.

"That it is. It has no words, yet it stirs you," he pointed out.

"I wish I'd been able to consult you about my paper," she said wistfully. "I had no one to talk to during the drafting and revising process."

"Don't hesitate, next time. Especially since your teacher is clearly an idiot who didn't want to give you a lower grade because he was afraid he would betray his ignorance and laziness," Touya rolled his eyes. In the fading sunlight, Tomoyo realized how beautiful they were.

"Thank you," Tomoyo said gratefully.

"It was nothing," Touya shrugged. They smiled at each other for a while, then Tomoyo remembered the tea, put off the kettle, and went upstairs.

Touya followed, to their surprise, and helped teach Sakura Advanced Algebra. His mocks and taunts, to Tomoyo's surprise, spurred Sakura to wrap her mind around concepts faster; she soon realized they really were tokens of affection for his sister. She watched him: how his hair fell into his eyes, how his chin was saved from femininity by the darkening of stubble, how his lips moved.

And she felt the first stirrings of attraction; it took Tomoyo some time to figure it out because she'd never been attracted to a boy before.

In truth she'd always known how handsome Touya was; as a child she'd had the tiniest of crushes on him because he reminded her of Sakura. But now—they could talk, and he never treated her as though she was six years younger than him.

Every afternoon, she and Sakura stopped by the Kinomoto house for tea or reviews for the finals or, after they were over, to talk about the day's events and giggle over them. Touya frequently put on an appearance, and Tomoyo learned to relax in, and look forward to, his presence.

And then things fell apart. To Tomoyo's shame, when Sakura came to her after graduation day with the news that her then-boyfriend Kito had raped her (and even then Sakura had used the words, "made me have sex with him and it really hurt," and Tomoyo felt the first stirrings of hate in her heart) Tomoyo had stayed calm—but was furious. How could she have missed it? How could she have not prevented this?

Guiltily, she answered her own question: because that was the spring when she had first begun to acknowledge her love for Touya Kinomoto. Eighteen and wise beyond her years, Tomoyo realized that Touya had been a presence on the edge of her consciousness for a long time, until that night when she had arrived at the Kinomoto house after the awful attack on Sakura and found herself alone with him.

"_Oh, sorry!" Tomoyo had gasped when she had let herself in, and found herself face to face with Touya. "I didn't mean to intrude…"_

"_It's all right," Touya said, and then he looked at Tomoyo carefully. He had watched Tomoyo grow from a wise little girl to a sad young woman, and could not explain why he was irresistibly drawn to her. She was nothing like Kaho Mizuki, his first lover; she had guided him gently into manhood when he was fifteen, and he would forever be grateful. It was when he began to notice the soft curves of her neck, the way her hips swayed, how her lips opened softly, that he realized with a shock that he was beginning to lust after, of all people, Sakura's best friend, his cousin and practically his sister._

_He'd taken a chance on coming home; perhaps _she_ would be there. He'd waited, and when the clock struck nine, he wondered why Sakura wasn't home. Instead Tomoyo had walked through the door—and that was when their lives changed forever._

_Now, they merely stared at each other in the darkness of the house. The chill of spring still carried __the__ bite of winter with it. She longed to tell Touya what had happened to Sakura, but Sakura had made her promise never to tell; Touya had hated Kito on sight and had gone out of his way to be nasty to the young man. She feared that Touya might seek revenge, and did not want her brother to wind up in jail. _Wasn't it so like Sakura to be concerned about the asshole_, Tomoyo thought, _even when she's hurting?

"_Something's happened to Sakura," Touya said softly._

_Tomoyo stood there, Sakura's key dangling from a golden tiger stuffed toy keychain in her hand. Of course he had noticed; he was the only one who noticed the same things she did. It would be many years later before Tomoyo would find someone else who could see with her eyes—and worse, see right through her at times. But their meeting was many years off at this point, and she knew she had to distract Touya._

"_Sakura-chan is fine. She's at my house and I just came to get things for her," she lied desperately; in truth Sakura was being treated for __post-abuse__ trauma by a private doctor whom Tomoyo had paid hard cash for her silence._

_Touya looked at her with the look that told her, _Don't lie, I can see right through you.

"_I'm sorry." She turned to flee up the stairs to Sakura's bedroom. Quickly she threw open Sakura's cabinet and began shoving panties, bras, shirts, skirts—anything into her pink tote bag._

_She didn't realize Touya was behind her until someone put hands on her shoulders and turned her around. They stared at each other; outside the window, an unseasonable snow began to fall. Tomoyo didn't even realize she was crying until Touya put a finger to her cheek and gently wiped the tears away._

_He didn't say, _Stop crying_ or _Don't cry_; __it was with wonder that Tomoyo noticed his lips were on hers.__ And she gave herself up to the forbidden kiss; they both knew so many reasons why they shouldn't, and yet they did._

_Tomoyo found herself pushed back onto Sakura's bed, but she did not protest; she reached up to cup Touya's face in her hands and looked at him, really looked at him, in wonderment. Neither of them uttered the clichés newlyfound lovers shared; they simply were not the kind, and they did not want to demean the magical stolen moment with such drivel. Instead Touya let Tomoyo trace__, with a finger,__ his cheeks, his ears, his eyelids, his nose, and finally, his lips. When she let go, he returned the favor, and she watched his eyes carefully. All she could see in the scant light from the window was a look of wonderment, and when he bent his dark head down to kiss her again, she accepted the kiss gratefully._

_Soon his tongue pushed into her mouth, and she yielded, feeling free for the first time in her life. This was what she had to give, and she gave it to him gratefully; for how long they kissed, she could not remember. He did not push her for more than what she __could__ give; he did not try to strip her, or fondle her body._

_Then he stopped. He did not push himself away from her; merely, he lay there and held her in his arms, breathing in her scent. The snow fell as they lay in each other's arms, knowing that what they felt was like a fragile little flower that they both wished to nurture. _

_When they realized that darkness had fallen, he picked up her cell phone from where it had dropped, and punched in a number; Tomoyo knew he would ring his own phone, so he could store her number there._

_He returned the phone to her, then took up a tendril of her long hair, kissing it softly. He helped her up; hand in hand they came down the stairs. Tomoyo had brought no car; she'd left her limousine with Sakura at the clinic to take her home after the examination. Touya grabbed some keys off the counter, and ushered Tomoyo to the small subcompact __the Kinomotos__ owned; he would drive her home._

_Safe and warm, they did not speak as he took her to the Daidouji mansion; at the gate, he cut the engine and looked at Tomoyo once again. The look told her much, and when he spoke, she wasn't surprised when he asked, "Are you sure about this?"_

_Tomoyo nodded, and he gathered her into his arms, breathing her in. She had never seen Touya this emotional in her long years of knowing him, and she was surprised that she could bring this out of him._

"_Are you?" she asked against his shoulder._

"_Do you—should I…break up with…" Touya began._

_She put a finger over his lips. "Don't."_

_He knew it was useless to argue, and instead, he kissed her once again. It took all of Tomoyo's willpower to pull away; he leapt out of his side and opened her door. Out of the line of sight of the gate camera, he kissed her again as the snow whirled around them._

"_You don't know how long I've wanted you," Touya said._

_Tomoyo smiled. "Then you understood me all along."_

"_That's why I took a chance tonight. I didn't expect you to be there at home, and when you appeared, I…just had to," Touya said softly. "Take care of Sakura. You're the only one I trust with her. Is she badly hurt?"_

_Tomoyo shook her head; it was the only answer she could give, and not strictly a lie because physically Sakura was not badly hurt—emotionally though, she had no idea._

"_Take care of her for me then." Touya stroked her cheek then waited as Tomoyo used her security card to open the house gates. Then he drove off._

_His gesture of supreme trust in her almost took Tomoyo's breath away, and she cherished that memory for a long time to come.__ And it was a long time before they met again. Neither called the other, nor even sent a text message; those kisses were like a sacred moment neither wished to destroy. Yet they both kept the other's number in their directories, even as their cell phone models changed and became more advanced._

_The longing for Tomoyo that he felt burned at Touya, and he plunged headlong into his relationship with Yukito. If Yukito had sensed the conflict churning in his partner, he never said a word, and his patience tore into Touya, like a physical ache. Sometimes he was unable to reciprocate when Yukito was affectionate; he wound up apologizing profusely, and their relationship soon became a loving, if non-physical one, much to Touya's relief. That girl had stolen his heart and desires, and had he only had the courage to end things with Yukito, he would have. But he could not; it is one of those mysteries of the heart that we can be cowards at doing the right thing, so afraid of hurting others that we choose to do the things that will hurt them more in the long run._

_Tomoyo threw herself into the whirl of college, unsurprised when she was not as often asked out as Sakura. She preferred it that way. Sometimes she was tempted to call Touya and ask him to just come and be with her, but each time her hand picked up her cell phone, her heart trembled, and she realized she could not do it—because she knew he would come. And from what Sakura had told her, he and Yukito were still together. No, she would not do it. She could not do it._

_Two full turns of the seasons passed before they found themselves face to face again after Sakura dragged Tomoyo home during the spring break, right before their third year in college. Touya was there, to their surprise; Sakura had flung herself at him and glomped him, earning herself the insult, "You're heavy, monster!" But as he held his sister, Touya's eyes burned into Tomoyo's, and found that his desires were reciprocated, to his relief._

_Soon Sakura bounded up to her bedroom, calling behind her, "Am just gonna bathe and freshen up! Onii-chan, be nice to Tomoyo!" leaving them in the basement/library together. Even before the shower started, they were in each other's arms, kissing almost desperately. Time had not blunted their longing for one another; Touya was now finishing medical school, and Tomoyo had entered the university music conservatory. He had stopped by to check on the house, and both of them knew it had not been a mere coincidence. Time had chosen to bring them together again._

_When Sakura came down an hour later, freshly bathed and changed, Tomoyo was in the kitchen brewing some tea and Touya was watching the news. They all ate dinner together, chatting about old times, and Touya fondly watched his sister._

_That night, as Sakura slept in her room, Tomoyo was visited in the guest room by Touya, and this time, they went beyond mere kisses. Soon they were meeting once a month, sometimes more often, and since Tomoyo and Sakura now shared a dorm room at the university, they sometimes met at the Kinomoto house. They did not speak much; the language of lips and tongues was theirs in the moments they stole from the world. Soon it was Christmas, and Sakura had joined Fujitaka Kinomoto in Cambodia, while Yukito had flown off to Australia to join his grandparents for the holidays. _

_Both knew that their relationship would be taken to new heights that season of snow, and they made love for the first time as the snow fell breathlessly outside. Touya took a long time preparing Tomoyo for their union; while he knew her body well from their many makeout sessions, he did not intend to hurry her along. She gave herself up to him, and when he joined them, she felt only a little pain—the joy of being one with him was perfect._

_Five years passed like a beautiful blur, the only interruptions being when Sakura was traumatized by Emile, and dumped by Yue about a year before Touya, Yukito, and Fujitaka died. _

Tomoyo had kept her composure through it all, save for that terrible moment when she had miscarried Touya's baby. Eriol had been there, taking care of her, steadfastly protective, as always. After Touya, he was the only one who really knew and accepted her—yet there was something undefinable in him that Tomoyo found herself curious about. But to ask him about it would not be playing fair; after all he'd helped hide her affair with Touya for three years.

It was when Touya died that she realized Eriol was in love with her, and she almost laughed. She wanted to yell at him, to ask him why he hadn't taken her away from Touya, why he hadn't offered her his love and the possibility of an affair which wouldn't have to be hidden. _Why, Eriol, why?_ She wanted to scream at him and shake him and make him react with something other than his usual calm.

Tomoyo was sick of it, but she valued her composure too much to indulge in theatrical dramatics. Her dignity was an intrinsic part of who she was.

And how she longed to throw it away right now, to be wild and wanton. With Eriol and that hidden part of his eyes.

_No_, she set her lips firmly, _definitely not_. _It would be disrespectful of me to do that to him._

But that unexplored facet of Eriol's personality, those secrets he kept hidden behind his eyes—could he be wild somewhere deep inside him as well? The possibility teased and tantalized her, and sometimes she found herself wondering what Eriol would do if she just up and kissed him and tore his clothes off…No. He would probably be shocked, and too polite to show it. She was, after all, his perfect goddess—right?

Perfection—she flouted it in tiny ways. She'd become a curvy adult, in contrast to Sakura's willowy form; her bosom was large and bountiful, her hips rounded and sexy. She didn't have a conventional career, though she was still successful and financially independent from her mother. And her beautiful voice—she hadn't raised it in song in a long while, not because Touya had died but because her mother loved her voice.

In truth she loved her mother and knew that Sonomi loved her as well. But sometimes that love could suffocate. Though she knew Sonomi wanted her to be perfect, Tomoyo also understood that it was because her mother wished to resurrect Nadeshiko in her.

_I just want to be me_, a little voice in her whimpered until she became old enough to stifle it. It was, after all, a useless thought. Who, in this forbidding world, could possibly manage to be themselves? Only Sakura, who was blessed with such innocence that she didn't know how to be any other way. It was one of a few things that Tomoyo envied her for, one of the tiniest jealousies buried inside out of love for many.

What she did not realize was that the very love she cherished most in her heart, the love for Touya Kinomoto, had done its damage as well. Stolen kisses are never as sweet as those shared in open love, and when one is kept a secret for long—and has to keep that secret for long as well—the heart begins to wonder if winter will ever change for spring. Even the most steadfast of hearts can fail, and Tomoyo did not realize that the eternal winter had come to rest in hers.

* * *

**The Beginning of Their Season**

"Why did you advise Syaoran to marry Sakura?" Tomoyo asked curiously. They were having coffee and tea at her condominium after Sakura and Syaoran's wedding, and Tomoyo was still somewhat put out that Sakura had refused to let her bring a camera. Both of them knew that their coffee-and-tea would soon become a comforting ritual to both of them as they discussed their best friends' romantic fates.

"He was headed there anyway," Eriol smiled slyly at Tomoyo, "and you know that."

"I see somebody suspects something," Tomoyo grinned.

"Syaoran at the very least likes her very much. He's been in a funk since Loraina divorced him, and yet Sakura has pulled him out of that funk. He teases her, he plays with her, he smiles with her. In all the years I've known him, he's never been that way with anyone else."

"You think he loves her but doesn't realize it," Tomoyo said, not asking for confirmation, but stating a fact.

Eriol nodded. "That sudden reading of his father's will took him by surprise," he said. "I suspect his father found out about the first divorce, and knew Syaoran was keeping company with Sakura."

"Keeping tabs on him?" Tomoyo asked curiously. "But he's not the primary heir, is he?"

"He's still the only boy in a Chinese family," Eriol shrugged. "And I know his father. He seemed strict but Syaoran meant the world to him. To his mother as well. I think Kao Hsiu knew that Syaoran was keeping company with Sakura and decided to force things along."

"And you know this how?"

"Maybe we had a little talk before he died," Eriol shrugged, and Tomoyo knew he wasn't lying.

"You never told Syaoran, though."

"You know his temper as well as I do," Eriol smiled.

"How would Syaoran's father have known?"

"The same way I did. Syaoran only hangs around people he respects, and for him to be constantly in Sakura's company—well," Eriol paused to sip his coffee, made pale with lots of cream and sweetened with honey. "I think he put that clause in his will to force Syaoran into marrying her because he must have seen something there. He came here for treatment before he died, and I accompanied him as he watched Sakura and Syaoran out at that favorite café of theirs. I haven't seen Uncle smile that way for a long time."

"He came to Tokyo alone?" Tomoyo was coming to a certain suspicion.

"Yes."

"The Syaoran's father didn't tell his mother." What Tomoyo said was a statement, not a question.

Eriol sipped again, then, "No. Aunt Yelan can be pigheaded when it comes to Syaoran.

"Oh no," was all Tomoyo said as she sipped her tea.

"Well said," Eriol nodded, "But then we can't interfere there." They both looked out at the summery Tokyo night, quietly enjoying each other's company.

And so, it was with annoyance that Eriol and Tomoyo watched Sakura and Syaoran dance around each other, shy with their feelings, slowly falling deeper in love.

"They've been married eight months!" Tomoyo whimpered as she rested her head against a wall in Eriol's studio. "What the devil...this shit can't go on any longer, someone has to give!"

"Language, Tomoyo-san," Eriol teased. And was surprised when her lips compressed into a tight line.

"It's just Tomoyo, you know," she said in a brittle voice.

Eriol raised a brow. "Have I offended you?"

Tomoyo covered her eyes with an arm. "No. Forgive me. I am just being—irrational."

_She's never irrational, _Eriol thought, and remained silent; if she wanted to say something, she would.

_Why are you like this? _Tomoyo thought. Always reserved, calm, polite, and so—**bleeding**gentle.

She knew Eriol cared for her; she would have to be blind to miss it. But she felt he did not see her the way she wanted him to see her: as a woman. Not a saint, not a tragic heroine—just...a woman. She was disappointed that he'd never made a move, that he made her his Muse, that he always treated her like a china doll. Sure, he respected her mind, and they connected intellectually. But...

**Touya saw me as a woman, **she thought. And that, she felt, was where the problem lay. Eriol saw her as someone exalted, someone **else**.

Yet Eriol was the one she could talk to. And if she were honest about it, yes, she did find him attractive. His heavy-lidded eyes, his high cheekbones, his deep voice: he was quite unlike Touya in many ways. His mind seduced her; he could sometimes read her like a book and yet he never judged her. Does that mean he sees me for who I really am? she wondered.

Had Eriol been more aggressive, had he tried to take her away from Touya...Tomoyo smiled bitterly. Eriol would have been all hers. No sharing with another person. No hiding and sneaking around, no feeling guilty. But the time for that had passed, Tomoyo reflected. Now they had settled into a comfortable routine, and they would probably stay that way. And Tomoyo knew better than to encourage false hope in herself; if Eriol hadn't made a move on her in nearly four years, then he probably would never do so. She turned to Eriol and forced a smile on, knowing he would know it was false, but not caring.

"I should go," she said. "Shall I see you tomorrow then?"

Eriol knew there was something else entirely in her false smile, but he nodded and said, "Take care going home then." He did not offer to drive her home this time, sensing she needed to be alone.

Paradoxically, that he understood her that well made Tomoyo resent Eriol even more.

**What is it you want from him?** Her mind scolded.

_Passion_, another voice whispered. _Anger, jealousy, possessiveness, lust…and **passion**_, it whispered until she could force it away by thinking instead of how to get Sakura and Syaoran together.

* * *

**The Last Snows of Winter**

The last thing Eriol expected, on a quiet early winter morning such as this one, was a call from his dearest friend's mother - Daidouji Sonomi herself - informing him that he had an appointment with the woman that afternoon, and if he did not come his fate would be less than pleasant.

_Interesting turn of events_, he thought, as he searched for something to wear. _Two discussions in one day_.

When Syaoran had left earlier, there had been much to think about, of course. He had admitted to his love for Sakura, indirectly at the least, after several months of marriage. That was a surprise that wasn't a surprise; Eriol and Tomoyo both knew it was inevitable. But for Syaoran to admit it quicker than they predicted…Eriol had been about to call Tomoyo to meet with her when he'd gotten the call from Sonomi.

The news of this appointment was far more pressing, in Eriol's mind. What on earth could she want that would be so important that Sonomi would use a threat? He somehow doubted she wanted a business deal of any sort using him as a promotion for her toys, given that kind of threat. The only other possibility was that this was about Tomoyo. That could **not** be good. Sonomi understood him, and liked him. It was something he was most grateful for. Incurring her wrath was the last thing on his mind, and so he hoped desperately he had done nothing to provoke her. He didn't think there was something, but that didn't stop a cold fear from seeping into his mind.

The sound of the bell chiming three made him jump. How had an entire hour gone by so quickly? There were only thirty minutes left before he needed to meet with Sonomi. It took him all of ten minutes, luckily, to quickly neaten up. In another seventeen minutes, he was in Ginza. Parking though took him five minutes to find, this being the ritziest part of Tokyo, and he was panting slightly as he sprinted around the hallway corner to find Sonomi's secretary waiting for him. He was, god forbid, two minutes late.

"Tell Daidouji-san that Eriol is here to see her," he breathed. Meekly the woman nodded. She pressed a small button and said clearly, "Eriol-san is here."

"Bring him in." Luckily, she didn't sound enraged, but Eriol didn't count his chickens just yet. She _was_, after all, a businesswoman, whose mood could change with a tap of her finger.

Taking one moment to readjust his shirt and run a hand through his hair to put it in order, Eriol prepared himself for the worst. Without a word he walked into the room and bowed to Sonomi.

"Good afternoon, Hiiragizawa." Eriol winced. Her voice was dreadfully calm as she called him by his last name. She was furious.

"Good afternoon, Sonomi-san," he said, rising. There would be no use in trying to charm his way out of this, whatever 'this' was. "There was something you wished to discuss?"

Watching him coldly, Sonomi drummed her fingers against the wood of her desk. "Yes," she said finally. "I wanted to ask you about how you failed to inform me about a number of... A number of things regarding my daughter."

"What sort of things?" Eriol asked.

"Well, for one, you failed to let me know that her lover had passed away."

Eriol fought to stay calm. This was getting worse by the second. "As I have said before - it was for Tomoyo to tell you. But seeing that you are aware of it now... I won't deny it. Yes, he died, some months ago."

"At least you've more sense than to lie to me about that. I _**do**_ wish you had told me, though. It might have made watching my daughter fall apart every now and then before my very eyes a little easier, knowing what she was going through. It is... difficult. To have the one you love leave…"

"I know." Eriol forced himself to stay calm; Sonomi did not know about Kaho Mizuki; only Syaoran ever would.

"You would, considering she seems to trust you even more than her own mother with her secrets."

"I'm... Sorry?"

"Don't bother. I'm not mad about that. I'm not even mad about you not telling me he died - at least, not so much as I am about his identity."

He began to sweat. "His identity."

"How long, Eriol-kun," she asked bitingly, "did you think you could hide from me the fact that my daughter was having an affair with the late," and she paused before spitting the last words out, "Kinomoto Touya?"

On one hand, she had called him 'Eriol-kun' and that was a good sign. But then there was little he could say in reply to that - it was almost a slap in the face to hear the sheer hatred in her voice. "A while?" he responded in all honesty.

Sonomi did not hear him. She was in an absolute rage now, standing up to her full height. "I trusted you! How long did it last?"

"Five years."

"Since she was twenty? Two years longer than even you have known her! And you still never thought that I might want to know that she was dating a Kinomoto?"

Well, he couldn't get into any worse position by asking... "Why is it so bad that it was Kinomoto-san?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, they're second cousins! Did that ever occur to you? And more than that... He's a Kinomoto. My cousin, Nadeshiko, was so dear to me - and Touya-kun's mother. Fujitaka was her teacher, and they still married. Can you imagine? Having your best friend and cousin married at sixteen to some - some dirtbag of a teacher who was clearly outstepping his boundaries? The shame of it! And to find his son stealing away my daughter - I would have stopped it. And I trusted you to let me know when you learned that it was - scum like him who broke my daughter's heart!"

Eriol's mind whirled, bewildered. On one hand, he could understand Sonomi's anger, and maybe even heartbreak. But it was silly, wasn't it? Sonomi adored Sakura, but had never liked Touya. He looked too much like his father, maybe? There was no way to tell. Still, hearing this story, much clicked into place about Sonomi's ways—and why Tomoyo was the way she was.

He gulped. "I am sorry, then. I was never aware that Kinomoto Fujitaka-san did such a thing. But I can't help but say that Kinomoto-san must have really loved her, and Nadeshiko-san him."

"Get to the point."

"And... I don't think you should blame Touya-san for the faults of his father. I... I don't like Touya-san. I never really knew him, because I wanted to hate him for taking Tomoyo-san away from me before I had even met her." It cost him a lot to make that admission but then Sonomi knew, had always known that he was in love with her daughter. "But I still don't think he was ever that bad."

"He broke Tomoyo's heart, had an affair with her even when he was still with that other man! And even, I suspect, impregnated her - I always did wonder why the hospital bill for a certain 'accident' of hers was so much. An abortion, maybe? I don't care. He was that bad. I am very disappointed. You should have told her. You should have protected her, should have told that scum to leave her alone! Why didn't you? No way could such a cold person possibly be any good for her, but you let her date him anyway! And I thought you cared for Tomoyo enough to guide her. Was I wrong? You should have protected her from idiots like him, and not trusted her judgment! Why did you dare to let Tomoyo get her heart broken by being stupidly involved with that boy?" She was screaming now, and while Eriol understood why she was angry, that was absolutely, certainly it. Eriol had tried to be patient, but he had his limits. He stared at her in anger. He knew how angry he could look. His eyes were very expressive, one of the many things that made him popular as a star. He could be kind, loving, sad, sympathetic, whatever the situation called for, with those eyes. Being angry, they would express pure, cold hatred towards anybody. He saw the effect even worked on Sonomi as the strong woman trembled slightly under his gaze. She still held firm - she was a businesswoman - but she had weakened.

"Enough. Stop this now. I didn't interfere with her relationship. Why? Sonomi-san, I need you to understand, she was happy with him. I don't care what you say about Touya-san. I told you, I tried to hate him. But you know what? I couldn't. He was a genuinely kind person. He loved Tomoyo. Tomoyo loved him. There was nothing else to it. He made her happy. How could I possibly want to change something that made her happy? That is how much I care for her - that to this day, I will defend Touya-san's character, because I know he was a good person, for her sake. You have no idea how much I would love to run his name through the mud, but for her, I will not. You should trust your own daughter's judgment more, instead of allowing your silly prejudices with the family get in the way. I have never met his parents, but I have heard only good of them. Maybe your story is true - but see it from their perspective, instead of yours, and maybe you can try to understand. Think of whoever Tomoyo-san's father was, if that helps. But I can't allow even you to criticize Tomoyo's decision. Her heart is broken, but she is dealing with it, and I will be there to help her. Do not try to stop me. I will do whatever is best for her. Always. Good afternoon, Sonomi-san."

About to leave, Eriol turned, but Sonomi-san said, "Wait," and so he turned back, curious.

Sonomi didn't seem willing to budge, but he could tell that his words had shaken her. "Just so you know - I was headed to surprise Tomoyo when I saw her climbing into your car, and I followed you two to the graveyard. I saw you. I saw my daughter crying. I made the connection when I saw where her tears had dropped in the snow. That's how."

Eriol nodded. "Thank you," he said. This time, with a proper bow of thanks, he left, confident that Sonomi-san would come around.

He would be right.

* * *

**Next chapter:** Loraina comes to overnight at Tomoyo's home, with unexpected results, and Eriol and Tomoyo prepare to head off for Hong Kong.

**Notes:** The setting for this chapter is still during winter (2008 for convenience); as of Ch 12, Slowly Sweetly is already in April (2009 for convenience).

Please leave a review? Thank you to all those who left reviews for the first chapter (big hug)

Sorry for the delay in updating but I did warn you it would be slow. It will probably be some time before this is updated, gomen ne, so keep it on alert if you're interested? Thanks!


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